Paper Flowers
by dnofsunshine
Summary: In which Daisuke makes Takeru a paper flower. Daikeru/Takesuke. Companion to "Candy Clouds." [25/25]
1. Paper Flower

_A/N: I don't own Digimon. This is simply a drabble collection to soothe my desires for more Daikeru fanfiction._

**Prompt:** "Paper Flower"

**Word count: **637

* * *

Takeru poised his pen over his paper, ready to write. The problem was, he'd been sitting like this for at least fifteen minutes, and so far, he hadn't made any progress. He glared at his notebook and tossed it to the ground with an annoyed sigh.

_Forget it,_ he thought, irritated. _There is no way I'm going to be able to write. Or at least right now._

Usually the words would just flow from his pen to the paper. It didn't take him long for sentences to become paragraphs, and paragraphs to become pages.

Other times, like this time, it would take him hours to write one sentence that looked right.

There was no in between.

Takeru threw his head back frustration. He looked down at the notebook, mentally ripping the pages in it to pieces.

As he leaned back against the tree, he heard footsteps to his right. He didn't have to look up to know who it was.

Daisuke's voice, low and sexy, breathed out, "Hey," centimeters away from his ear.

"Hey," Takeru mumbled back, his tone noticeably less enthusiastic then the other's.

Instantly, the older teen pulled away, raising an eyebrow in concern. "Well you seem happy today," he said, grinning slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dais." Takeru looked up at him and offered a small smile, trying not to ruin the other's mood. "Just frustrated, that's all."

Daisuke's grin widened. "Well maybe I can help." The older boy sat down carefully next to him, following Takeru's vexed gaze. Then he asked, "Writer's block again?"

Takeru breathed out slowly. "Yeah." He looked up from the notebook and at Daisuke again, then blinked in confusion.

One of Daisuke's hands was resting on his knee, dangling lazily above the grass. The other was at his side, his fingers clenched around something, as if to hide it.

Perking up a little, Takeru asked, "What's that?"

Daisuke's hand twitched. "Oh, this?"

"Yeah."

Slowly, Daisuke unclenched his fist to reveal a small, slightly crumbled origami flower. It was made of plain notebook paper and the tips of it were sorta bent from being held for so long.

"I… I made you a flower," Daisuke admitted sheepishly, scratching his cheek with his free hand. Takeru raised his brows again, and Daisuke added, "I mean, I wanted to get you a real flower, but then I thought, 'Well, don't real flowers die at some point?' and you know, paper never really _dies. _It can get torn or something, right, but it still stands tall. And I—I wanted to make you something that meant that we wouldn't really die, even if we did have some rips, you know? That we had some scars, but we weren't, like, done."

Takeru blinked and didn't respond right away. Immediately, Daisuke's cheeks became bright red and he looked away, mumbling, "Yeah, go ahead and laugh. It was stupid, anyway," before shrinking into himself.

At that, Takeru did laugh. A small, mirthful laugh that seemed to make Daisuke's blush deepen. He kept laughing for a few moments, and then shifted so that he was a little closer to the other boy.

Slowly, Takeru took the origami flower in his right hand and murmured, "C'mere," in a soft voice. He grasped Daisuke's chin with his left hand and pecked him on the lips shortly, smiling slightly. "You really know how to make my day better, don't you?"

"So you, umm, you like it?"

"Of course. I love it," Takeru whispered. He shifted again so he could stand, then offered a hand to his boyfriend, who in turn grinned and accepted it gratefully. Daisuke picked up Takeru's notebook and gave it to him, and, hand in hand, they walked away, with Daisuke rambling about suddenly being very hungry, and Takeru smiling, already feeling better than he had minutes before.


	2. Insomnia

_A/N: Still don't own Digimon. Just to let you guys know: these drabbles aren't connected in any way, shape or form. They are completely unrelated to one another.  
_

**Prompt: **Insomnia

**Word Count: **297

* * *

Poke.

Poke, poke, poke.

"Takeru?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't sleep."

Daisuke listened for the usual response: a sigh, some rustling, and then his lover was facing him directly, glazed blue eyes meeting blood-shot cinnamon ones. Only god knew what time it was; Daisuke just knew that it was late, his eyes hurt, his head pounded, and overall he felt like shit.

Takeru shifted a little more, snuggling against the older teen's body, pulling the blanket closer to two of them as he trembled slightly. For some reason that was unknown to Daisuke, he was forever cold.

"Count some sheep," the younger teen mumbled sleepily. He demonstrated: "One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep..."

"But I already_ tried _that," Daisuke told him, a slight whine in his voice. "It didn't _work._"

After a few moments, Takeru exhaled softly: a low, shivering breath that felt hot against Daisuke's neck. He untangled himself from the blanket they shared, coiling his arms around the spiky-haired teen. His thin, cool fingers trailed down up the base of his spine, tracing patterns into his shoulder blades.

"You're tense," he said softly, pressing his cheek against the older boy's chest. "Relax. Take a deep breath. It'll help you sleep if you're not so worked up."

Shakily, Daisuke complied. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He repeated this action for a while, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen as Takeru continued to draw invisible pictures on his back. Then, after about ten minutes, the exhaustion of today's events ebbed at his mind; sleep tugged at his eyelids, begging to be closed.

"There you go," the blue-eyed boy murmured, a tired smile gracing his lips. The other returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around Takeru, slowly lulled into a restless slumber by his lover's calm breathing and steady heartbeat.


	3. Photo Booth

_A/N: Still don't own. _

**Prompt: **"Photo Booth"

**Word count:** 421

* * *

Takeru decided it was extremely difficult to say no to Daisuke when he was on his knees, hands clasped together, his lip stuck out in an adorable pout. Not to mention he had all but mastered the puppy-dog eyes (which he'd probably learned from Hikari; Takeru made a mental note to confront her later).

"Dais, I..." Takeru stopped when his boyfriend's smiling face broke into a disappointed, heartbreaking frown.

"C'mon, Takeru! Pretty please? I'll do your laundry for a week! No, wait_—_a month! I'll even do the dishes!"

Takeru looked back at the older teen, then at the empty photo booth in front of them. It just stood there, waiting. Mocking them_._ Mocking _him._

It wasn't that he was camera shy; he just didn't like getting his picture taken. The flash of the camera always hurt his eyes and it seemed like whatever he did to make himself look presentable didn't matter because the little demon just fucked everything up. It was why he only visited Yamato when they were under the radar (his band was a big hit these days, meaning the paparazzi were almost _everywhere)._

Still, it was impossible to turn down Daisuke.

_"__Pleeeeaaase?"_

Grumbling, Takeru glared at the photo booth one last time before muttering a "fine" under his breath. He sighed, then allowed the other boy to drag him through the dark red curtain.

Thus, after a couple of minutes, Takeru found himself holding and looking at a little strip that contained four tiny photos:

One: Daisuke scolding Takeru for frowning and glaring at the lens (and flipping the camera the bird) as he physically showed the camera how much he hated it.

Two: Daisuke tickling Takeru in the ribs to make him laugh. He'd ended up smiling and giggling by the time the third picture was taken.

Three: Daisuke sneaking a peck on the cheek.

Four: Takeru getting back at him by turning his head and pressing his lips to Daisuke's, earning a surprised yelp from the other.

Despite himself, Takeru smiled. They were decent pictures (well, maybe not the first one). Daisuke was in them. He was with Daisuke. It wasn't so bad.

"See, Takeru? It didn't hurt." Daisuke grinned at him and snaked his arm around Takeru's waist, pulling him close. "They're pretty good, aren't they?"

"I suppose so."

"Then can we do it again?"

"What? No. No way in _hell_ am I going back in there—!"

Daisuke had already dragged him back through the curtain before he could say anything else.


	4. Cold

_A/N: Thanks for the feedback, everyone. It is greatly appreciated and makes my day better. :)_

**Prompt:** "Cold"

**Word count:** (Blink) 182

* * *

Daisuke knew Takeru loathed the winter.

He'd told him more than once about his hatred for the season; he complained about being cold the time, about how the days ended earlier than usual, about how the snow, ice and sleet made transportation even more difficult than it generally was. He'd even said once that winter made the world gloomy, being so frigid and dark.

Secretly, though, Daisuke _loved_ the winter. He adored the cold, adored the snow, the ice, the chilling breeze.

Why? Because it gave him a reason to make hot chocolate in the evening when Takeru returned from his long sessions of studying at the library.

It gave him a reason to cuddle with Takeru when they went to bed, because Takeru practically froze before Daisuke had a chance to even close his eyes, even with the heat on full blast.

It gave him a reason to stay home with Takeru all day when the weather acted up and canceled all of their classes.

Most of all, it gave him an excuse to hang out with the boy he loved.


	5. Umbrella

_A/N: Cue the cliché, overly-used-but-I-used-it-anyway-because-it's-cute prompt. Enjoy._

**Prompt: **"Umbrella"

**Word count:** 534

* * *

His body and clothes were soaked to the bone as the rain continued to pour softy. He breathed out slowly—an irritated, winded sigh that was drowned out by the storm around him—and kept walking, his head down, causing his drenched bangs to hang over his eyes. His body quivered slightly from the cold, as he'd taken off his hoodie in an attempt to keep Patamon dry.

"_Takeeeeru_, I'm hungry," Patamon complained from within the fabrics of his jacket.

"I know, bud."

"Are we almost home?" the digimon asked, shifting to poke his head out to face Takeru.

"Almost."

Patamon paused and looked at his partner with big, round blue eyes, looking as if he wanted to say something, but he kept quiet. Takeru opened his mouth to reassure him that it was just a bit longer, but all that came out was a string of coughs.

Patamon said, "You should put this back on," and disentangled himself from the hoodie, nudging Takeru in the arm. Takeru looked back down at it, deciding that it was, in its soaked, cold state, useless.

Sighing again, the blond's gaze fell upon the streets. They were empty, which was to be expected, as the weather had spoiled everyone's plans for today. He'd waited out most of the storm at the library, but he _did_ have a curfew to keep up with, and the library was only open for so long.

And, most importantly, he didn't think to bring an umbrella, because unlike Joe or maybe Koushiro, he didn't think to watch the news or something to prepare for what Mother Nature was to bring.

_I really have to time things better,_ he mused.

"Oi! Takeru! Is that you?" a bold, familiar voice called out, and Takeru whirled around, blinking in confusion. He squinted his eyes, not sure of what he was seeing.

"Daisuke? What're you doing out here?"

The goggle-head jogged up to him and Patamon, stepping in a few puddles and splashing rainwater on his shoes. "I could be asking you the same thing," he told the blond, frowning slightly.

Takeru looked up at the sky briefly, then down at his soaked hoodie, and finally, down at Patamon. "I _was_ at the library."

Daisuke snorted, as if Takeru's reason had humored him. "Figures."

"Didn't you bring an umbrella?" Chibimon asked, popping up from behind Daisuke's shoulder.

The younger teen shifted slightly, feeling ashamed. "Not exactly."

"And people call _me_ the idiot."

Takeru pouted, offended. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

"I have errands to run."

After Daisuke's words, Takeru looked down at his feet, miserable and cold and embarrassed. Patamon looked up at him worriedly, but remained silent.

Then, suddenly, the rain drops ceased, and when Takeru looked up, Daisuke was more closer to him than he was before, grinning slightly, holding his umbrella over him, sheltering all four of them from the drizzling above.

Takeru opened his mouth to say something, but Daisuke cut him to the chase: "C'mon, let's get outta here. You're gonna catch a cold if you don't get home soon, you know."

After a minute, Takeru realized Daisuke was waiting for a reply, so he nodded quietly, smiling softly.

"Ok."


	6. Keys

_A/N: This was supposed to be up yesterday... and it wasn't... ughhh... I don't own. _

**Prompt: **"Keys"

**Word count: **275

* * *

Daisuke chuckled lowly as he pressed himself against Takeru, who in turn let out a small giggle of surprise.

"You're so fucking cute when you do that," Daisuke purred against his lover's lips.

"Do what?" Takeru asked.

"When you laugh." Daisuke pecked him on the lips. "You sound like a fucking school girl sometimes. It's adorable."

"Shut up," Takeru said, beginning to pout.

Daisuke laughed, grinning at the boy in front of him. After a couple seconds, he extricated himself from Takeru, his smile fading slightly. "I'm hungry."

"That makes two of us."

Sighing softly in annoyance, Daisuke reached into his pocket, looking for his apartment key. Within a few moments, his frown deepened. Where had he put that damned key? He checked all of his other pockets and realized it was nowhere to be found.

"Shit," he muttered, throwing his head back in frustration.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My keys…" He looked longingly at the door, which, at this point, seemed to be mocking them. "…They're inside…"

"And…?"

"The door's locked…"

"Oh." Takeru paused. Daisuke pouted as his stomach roared to life, demanding to be fed. Then, the blond boy suddenly smiled, wrapping his arms around Daisuke's neck.

Huskily, Takeru whispered in his ear, "No one's home at my house…"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," Takeru murmured quietly, closing the distance between them.

"No one's home?"

"Indeed."

"And you have food?"

"Of course."

"Ok," Daisuke said, smiling cheekily. "And after we eat?"

"We'll just have to see about that," Takeru told him, and the two boys walked away from his apartment door, making their way to Takeru's, where, as he had said, no one was home.


	7. Gorgeous

_A/N: In response to Kal-El Fornia's question: Daisuke and Takeru's ages range between 15 and 21 throughout the drabbles. So their ages in the last chapter is up to your imagination. ;)_

**Prompt: **"Gorgeous"

**Word count: **322

* * *

Daisuke was _gorgeous_. There was no denying it.

He was tall, muscular and sported a golden tan that showed his love for the sun. He wore his heart on his sleeve; always expressive, always ready for action. Everything he did made him stick out more than anyone else, made him glow. And his cinnamon eyes were so warm and _full of life_ that it made Takeru's heart race.

Looking at himself now, Takeru knew he didn't stand a chance. He was quiet and more often than not faded into the background. He was pale; he was thin. Blond and blue-eyed—obviously different, obviously _not_ Japanese. A little muscular. He'd recently reached six foot, something Yamato and Taichi told him he should've been proud of.

But to be honest, he felt _lanky._

They were basically polar opposites.

Sighing, Takeru wrapped his arms around himself. He felt so insignificant compared to Daisuke. Sometimes he wondered why Daisuke had chosen _him_. Why Daisuke had said that he loved _him _and no one else, when there were so many people in the world that were better. Better than him.

Because Daisuke _deserved _better.

"Takeru? You ok in there?" A soft knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

The blond teen released another shaky breath. "Sure, Dais," he muttered, and seconds later, in came the boy Takeru couldn't get out of his mind.

They met eyes for the quickest of moments before Daisuke frowned in concern. "What's wrong, 'Keru? Are you feeling alright?"

"M'fine," the younger boy told him, though his boyfriend seemed to think otherwise, considering his frown did not fade. Takeru's heart skipped a beat as Daisuke walked up to him and encircled his arms around his bare chest, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. He mumbled something into his skin, but his words were incoherent and muffled.

"What?"

"I said," Daisuke breathed, the smile evident in his voice, "you're so fucking _gorgeous_."


	8. Birdie

_A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. The computer I've been using hasn't been working and I wanted to wait until I got it back, but it's already been a week since I've updated this so I decided I could post this at least. Thanks for the reviews, everyone. :)_

**Prompt: **"Birdie"

**Word count: **680

* * *

Daisuke decided coming over to Yamato's apartment was both the stupidest and courageous thing he'd ever done in his life. Not to mention the fact that he was standing across from the man himself, his heart pounding so badly that he could've sworn Yamato could hear it.

The worse thing about it? He'd been standing in the doorway for at least two minutes now, shaking and sweating, his mouth slightly agape, desperately trying to find the words to say to the older brother of the boy whom he loved so much.

"Um," Yamato said finally, widening the door enough so Daisuke could enter. "Are you just gonna stand there or...?"

Daisuke's face flushed bright red. "Right," he mumbled stupidly, looking down at his feet as he half-walked, half-stumbled into the boy's apartment.

As he sat at the table in Yamato's front room, the blond asked, "Can I get you a drink or something?"

"Nah, s'ok." He gave this kinda-smile, unsure of what to do. "I, uh, actually came over here to tell you something..."

"Oh?" Yamato walked over to the table and dumped himself into one of the chairs. "Is that so?"

Daisuke couldn't handle Yamato's curious gaze, so he quickly looked at his fingers. "It's—I mean, I, uhh—"

Great. He didn't even know what to say.

"So, umm, me and Takeru—"

Yamato's brows shot up. "What about my brother?"

Again, Daisuke felt his face heat up. He opened his mouth to just get this over with, but his lips wouldn't form the words. They lapsed into an awkward silence as he fought to find his voice.

There was no way he could tell Yamato about him and his brother's relationship. His hands quivered as he thought of what the elder blond would say, or worse, _do_ to him when he found out. He doubted Yamato was homophobic; actually, that was the least of his worries.

It was the fact that Yamato proved to be _extremely_ overprotective of Takeru. He barely let the kid out of his sight, despite his fifteen years. Daisuke truly believed that if Takeru said one word about being hurt, Yamato would kick the ass of whoever it was that was responsible.

Thus, his current predicament.

He nearly jumped as Yamato prompted, "Yes?"

"I'm dating your brother!" he blurted without thinking, and immediately regretted it. Good god, he was in for it now.

There was a long, horrible pause, so long that Daisuke believed Yamato wouldn't even reply, but then he smirked and proudly stated, "I know."

Daisuke's eyes got huge and he found himself stumbling over his words. "What? You—you mean—I mean, how?"

Yamato winked. "Let's just a say a little... birdie told me."

"Who—?" Daisuke stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mentally put the pieces together. _"Miyako..."_

"Close," Yamato cut in, "but it was Hikari. Basically, Miyako told Hikari, who told Taichi after a bit of pressure, who ended up spilling it Mimi, who told Sora, who told me. So I guess it _was_ Miyako, but..." He paused, as if he'd confused himself, and then grinned again. "Whatever. You know secrets never last when you're a Chosen."

Daisuke opened his mouth to argue, but then he realized that was truth.

"But I do have something to add," Yamato suddenly said, the smile slowly fading from his face.

Daisuke dared to meet his venomous, cold gaze.

"You know that if you hurt Takeru in any way, shape or form, I'll make sure your death is very, _very_ slow, and very, _very_ painful." He paused long enough to lower his voice poisonously. "You know that, right?"

He couldn't figure out how to answer that, so he just nodded meekly, his eyes wide with terror.

"Good," Yamato replied, smiling again, as if nothing happened. He patted Daisuke on the back hard enough to make him wince. "I'm glad we made that through. Now, are you sure you wouldn't like a drink? We have fruit punch."

Horrified, Daisuke shook his head.

He wasn't sure if Yamato would poison it or not.


	9. Skinny Jeans

**Prompt: **"Skinny Jeans"

**Word count: **407

* * *

With a loud sigh, Daisuke plopped down on a bench as he waited for Takeru to return from the male's dressing room. Gah, he was so bored. So _fucking _bored. He leveled his eyes on the mirror in front of him and glared at his reflection.

"Oi, Takeru!" he called out, annoyed. "Ya done in there yet?"

"Almost," Takeru answered immediately.

Daisuke knew that "almost" meant he'd take another fifteen minutes. His glare increased and he slammed his teeth together in impatience.

"Cheer up, Dais," Hikari said from beside him, poking him in the side with a smile. "Once Mimi's done looking at the skirts, we'll be done."

_Greeeaaaat._

This day was never going to end.

Just as the teen was about to flip his lid, he heard the door click. He perked up a little as Takeru walked out of the dressing room, thinking that maybe, just _maybe,_ they'd leave soon.

But the moment he saw Takeru, his mind went blank.

There he stood, clad in a white band T-shirt and black skinnies that outlined his sleekly muscled legs perfectly. Miyako gave a low whistle of appreciation and Hikari giggled. Daisuke just stared as he felt his face burn.

"Wow, Takeru," Miyako remarked, when Daisuke couldn't find any words to say. "Hikari was right. You _do_ look sexy in those jeans. We are _so_ buying those."

At this comment, Takeru blushed, mirroring Daisuke's face.

But she was right. Takeru looked… he looked… _nice_… Attractive, even.

No, that wasn't the right word for him. More like _smoking hot._

After a moment, Daisuke realized he was still staring, open-mouthed, like a complete idiot. Hastily, he averted his gaze. He glowered when Hikari giggled again.

"What?" he snapped, his face still beet-red.

"You're blushing," the brunette teased.

Grumbling, Daisuke turned away from her and the highly attractive male in front of him. "Can we just go?" he asked miserably.

Laughing, Miyako replied, "Oh, chill, Dais. Where's your spirit? We've still got an hour to waste until lunch."

"You mean we're going to have to stay in this _hell_ for another _hour?_"

Translation: he had to sit around and refrain himself from pouncing on Takeru for another _hour_ when the blond looked like a male model?

When Miyako nodded a little too enthusiastically, Daisuke groaned.

"Please, _please_ kill me now," he mumbled into his hands, only peeking through the cracks of his fingers to watch Takeru walk away to change.

* * *

_A/N: Because let's face it, Takeru would _totally_ look sexy in black skinny jeans._


	10. Mouse

_A/N: Ok so this chapter was replaced with another one I've written because the last one was offensive to some readers. I'm sorry if any of you guys were offended by "Uke or Seme?", because that wasn't the intention. Sorry readers. Here is my lame attempt to make amends. _

**Prompt/title:** "Mouse"

**Word count: **139

* * *

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

_"Pleaaase?"_

"No, Daisuke, for the last time, we are not getting a pet!"

"But Takeru—"

"No buts!"

Daisuke pouted, and it was a damn cute pout, too. Still, Takeru stood his ground. "No," he repeated sternly. He watched as Daisuke's face twisted into a glare, and Takeru didn't stop him as he marched out the door, slamming it in the process.

Then, after that, guilt began to brew in Takeru's stomach. He hated it when they fought, especially when it was over the stupidest of things.

_Ugh. I'm going to regret this,_ he thought, rolling his eyes as he ran out in the blistering heat to pursue after his upset boyfriend.

Thus, the next day, Takeru found himself glaring at the disgusting little _thing_ they called their pet that Daisuke held happily in his hands.


	11. Simple

_A/N: After a few happy drabbles, I decided to throw some angst in here. It's not much but I wanted to play around with Jun and Daisuke's sibling relationship. Oh, and happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it._

**Prompt:** "Simple"

**Word count: **483

* * *

Daisuke didn't expect his family to be home when he got back from soccer practice.

It was the reason why he slammed the door with as much force as he could muster, causing it to shake against its hinges. The reason why he didn't bother taking off his shoes, which were water-logged and practically ruined from the downpour outside. The reason why he didn't hide the tears streaming down his face in tiny, endless waterfalls.

It was all because he didn't expect them to be home. His parents were both at work and his sister had said she'd planned to go out with her friends. He was supposed to have the house to himself.

Which meant he was welcome to do whatever he god damn pleased.

But he was proved wrong when Jun's annoyed voice rang throughout the apartment: "Hey! You know you're not supposed to do that!"

"Shut up! I didn't ask you!" he shot back immediately, wiping his face angrily in an attempt to rid the redness in his eyes.

Jun popped her head out from in the kitchen, her cheeks flushed slightly with anger, fixing her irritated gaze on him. "That's not—" She stopped, her eyes widening slightly. Daisuke continued to glare at her, but she didn't seem to care, seeing as she dropped everything and ran over to him.

"What happened to your face?" she demanded, making a move to grasp his chin.

He swatted her away and screamed, "It's none of your damn business! Leave me alone!"

When he tried to push her away, she took hold of his arm and heatedly replied, "No! Let me look at it! You're bleeding!"

"I don't care! Let me go!"

"No! Let me look!" Jun repeated.

Daisuke turned away from her, his body trembling with rage and pain and from the cold. He was soaking wet from the rain, the tears wouldn't stop and his face hurt like hell—which was probably because his lip was busted and his right eye was swollen. Jun wasn't helping the matters in the slightest; in fact, she was pissing him off even more.

"Just go back to whatever you were doing," he grumbled bitterly. "I can take care of myself. So just fuck off, ok?"

They settled into a bleeding silence. He was breathing hard and his heart was pounding, while Jun just stood there, seeming unsure of what to do.

"…They got to you again, didn't they?" she whispered finally. "The guys from your team, I mean. They were the ones that did this to you, aren't they?"

Daisuke didn't reply at first. He still wasn't facing her. "I was protecting Takeru," he mumbled softly.

After a while, Jun murmured gently, "You should go get change so you don't get sick. I'm gonna go get you some ice."

Daisuke nodded hesitantly. Slowly, more tears slid down his cheeks.

_If only it were that simple._


	12. Sunset

**Prompt: **"Sunset"

_a/n: and here we have the cheesiest piece of shit I've ever written. Hell, I think every one of these drabbles are cheesy._

* * *

Vibrant pink, orange, yellow and red hues lit up the sky and reflected elegantly off of the watery horizon. A light breeze whisked around the two of them and caused Takeru's clothes and hair to sway in the wind. He almost couldn't believe his eyes. It was so luxurious, so complex.

It's so beautiful, the blond added silently as he watched the orange disk dip down into the crystal blue sea.

"The digital world is so beautiful," Daisuke whispered from beside Takeru, echoing his thoughts.

"We're so lucky to be able to see it," he murmured in response. Neither of them took their eyes off of the sight before them as Daisuke reached for his hand. With their fingers intertwined, the older teen grinned.

"I'm so lucky to be able to see it with you."

Takeru chuckled. "You cheesy bastard."

But he wouldn't lie. He loved being around Daisuke. He loved being in his arms, loved the way Daisuke's thumb brushed against his own when they were holding hands. Especially on a night like this.

"Oi! Takeru! Daisuke! There you are!" a feminine voice yelled, and Takeru couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment as Daisuke pulled away from him to turn around to locate the source. Hikari and Miyako at the top of the hill, waving at them.

"The food is done!" Hikari shouted happily.

"You better come get it before the digimon eat it all!" Miyako warned them.

Daisuke laughed, his dark brown eyes sparkling, and suddenly, they were both on their feet.

"Race you to the top?"

Takeru took one last look at the bleeding sunset before he grinned. "Bring it."


	13. Soap

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry I'm a little late... but here you go. :)_

**Prompt:** "Soap"

**Word count: **540

* * *

Daisuke hated chores. Especially when he had to do them when Takeru was here. Gah, this was humiliating.

"Uh," Takeru said awkwardly as Daisuke finished up his laundry, gazing at him sheepishly. "Is there anything else?"

He knew it. Takeru was probably bored.

Daisuke looked at him guiltily, feeling bad for making Takeru wait. A glance around made his curse under his breath in anger. "No, I, uhh, still have the dishes to do," he mumbled.

"I can help you if you want."

Daisuke felt his cheeks heat up at his offer. "That's ok. I'll get them done really fast. Then we can go."

"No, really, I'd like to help." Takeru's shy smile widened. "If that's ok with you."

"Are… are you sure?"

Takeru nodded and followed him to the kitchen. Daisuke winced as he stared at the pile of dirty plates, cups and bowls in the sink, looking at Takeru, searching for any hint of hesitation or disgust. He hated the fact that his kitchen was a mess and Takeru was here to see it.

"It's, umm, not usually this way," he muttered, looking at his feet. "I'm sorry for the mess."

"I've seen worse," Takeru replied with a grin. He pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie and walked over to the sink, turning the water on. Daisuke scurried over to help him and the blond added, "Seriously, you should see Yama's house sometimes."

Daisuke laughed, then began sorting through the dishes as the sink slowly filled with soapy water. For the next five or so minutes, they worked in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft hum of the TV in the front room and the clattering of the dishes.

That is, until Takeru flung bubbly water at him.

"Hey! Watch the goggles!" he whined immediately, and pouted when Takeru blinked innocently, as if he'd done nothing wrong. Daisuke found himself grinning as he scooped up a handful of bubbles and flung it at him.

"Daisuke!" the blue-eyed boy said, raising his arms to guard his face, but laughing all the while. The older teen's grin grew as the war began: the two were engaged in a battle of bubbles and soap and water. Flecks of white foam were sent across the room and back, creating a squelchy mirage over the counters.

Within minutes, Takeru's hoodie was soaked and popping suds clung to Daisuke's hands. The dishes in the sink were long forgotten as the two laughed.

"You… You look like Tailmon after being stuck outside in a thunderstorm," Takeru snickered, practically doubled over.

"Y-you're one to talk," Daisuke shot back, clutching his stomach.

"Boys!"

Daisuke and Takeru shot up immediately, their eyes widening in fear, stiffening slightly as Daisuke's mother tapped her foot impatiently from the other side of the room, skewering the both of them with an irritated glare.

"Oops," Takeru whispered to him fearfully.

"Oops is right," he muttered back, just as his mother furiously yelled, "I can't _believe_ you two! I expected this from Daisuke, but you, Takeru? Ugh. I want this cleaned up! Now!"

She stormed out of the room then, but only when they made sure she was out of sight did they burst into another round of laughter.


	14. Shuffle, Bump, Glare

_A/N: Ok, so _I_ thought this chapter was funny. I guess it will only make sense if you've ever sat next to someone who uses to opposite hand to write with that you do when you're at the table. Heh heh... In other words, Takeru is left-handed and Daisuke is right-handed. This does not play out very well._

**Prompt: **"Shuffle, bump, glare"**  
**

**Word count:** 262

* * *

Shuffle, bump, glare.

Shuffle, bump, hiss.

Shuffle, bump, sigh.

"Will you _stop that?!"_

"Me?" repeated the other, stunned. "No, _you_ stop it."

"I didn't do anything! Stop elbowing me!"

"Would you two just shut up so the rest of us can eat?" Taichi cut in, skewering a soft scowl on the two boys in front of him as he took a bite of his omelet.

"He started it," was mumbled, and then silence.

Shuffle, bump, glare.

Shuffle, bump, hiss.

Shuffle, bump—

"You know what?" Daisuke shouted, his voice loud enough to earn many disapproving stares from the other customers.

"No, I don't. Enlighten me," Takeru snapped just as loudly. Daisuke growled, but did not answer.

Shuffle, bump, glare.

"Ok, that's it." The older boy shot up from his chair with enough force to knock it over. Miyako and Hikari gave him a look, but he paid no heed. "C'mon, Takaishi. Get up. We'll settle this _my_ way."

Takeru glowered at him and was about to stand when Yamato shot him a warning glance. He exhaled bitterly, then looked away.

"Whatever." Daisuke set his chair back up in angry silence, and reseated himself with a loud sigh.

Shuffle, bump, glare.

_"Stop elbowing me!"_

"If it bothers you so much, then switch places," Koushiro remarked as he sipped his water. "Either that or starve, because the manager might kick us out if you create any more commotion."

Quietly fuming, Takeru and Daisuke did just that.


	15. Present

_A/N: In response to Hakanaki: I dunno if there's a cannon for Takeru being a lefty, but I imagine him so. If it is cannon, I support it._

_Also, for those of you who don't celebrate the holidays, I'm sorry; I couldn't resist. But to those of you who do, enjoy. :)_

**Prompt:** "Present"**  
**

**Word count:** 173

* * *

Skin against skin, bodies glistening with sweat, hands rubbing against bare flesh, exploring every curve, every muscle, every dent. Heat, passion, lust. Moan, giggle, squirm, gasp.

Takeru reclined against the mattress, dazed and flushed.

Daisuke collapsed beside him.

"You're so cute," Daisuke panted, toying with the tip of the red Santa hat that sat comfortably upon Takeru's head.

It was also the _only_ thing he was wearing.

Which was even cuter.

Takeru reached up and brushed his fingers through Daisuke's hair. "Then what does that make you?"

Daisuke chuckled and moved his face closer to the blond's, just so they were inches apart.

And he whispered huskily, "So, where's my Christmas present?"

There was a pause as Takeru's fatigued smile transformed into a frown. "You mean after all of _that,_ you want _another_ present?"

"So you're telling me that was my _only_ present?"

Takeru's frown deepened as he stared into Daisuke's pleading eyes, and he felt his resolve dampen considerably.

"Ugh, ok. Let me get dressed."

Daisuke was already looking for his shirt.


	16. Bloodstain

_A/N: Trigger warning for this: suicide.  
_

**Prompt:** "Bloodstain"_  
_

**Word count: **611

* * *

He remembered the day in explicit detail, as if it had happened yesterday.

He remembered walking the beautiful, nineteen-year-old Yagami Hikari home, laughing together and sharing jokes. He remembered the kiss they'd shared, full of heat and passion, as they stopped in front of her apartment door. He remembered the way her arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss, as his right hand snaked up her shirt to explore her shapely curves and breasts.

He remembered her flushed, hurt face when he pulled away, shocked and terrified, as he realized what he was doing.

He remembered the tears that gathered in her rusty-brown eyes as he backed away from her, his own eyes watering when he remembered she didn't know about his relationship with Takeru. When he realized she didn't know he was in love with her best friend, not her.

"I—I'm sorry," he'd stuttered, wide-eyed, as he'd backed away from her shaking frame. He remembered high-tailing away from her, never sparing a glance back at her.

He remembered running back to the apartment with as much speed as he could muster, and puking his guts out when he'd reached the lobby of the complex. He remembered the weird, scared looks from the people around him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, bolting up the stairs, thinking taking the elevator was a waste of time.

_Oh god, what have I done? What about Takeru? He'll be so hurt, _he'd thought, shakily pulling his apartment key out of his pocket, his movements slowed due to the hysteria rushing through his veins. _I'll have to tell him, before he finds out for himself. He'll hate me if I lie to him._

He remembered wrenching the door open like a madman when it had finally unlocked, the tears trailing down his cheeks in small, salty waterfalls. He'd ran through the apartment, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, confused and afraid.

And he'd froze at the sight in front of him when he made it to the bathroom, ready to vomit again.

Takeru was sprawled across the floor, his face deathly pale, his wrists sliced to the bone. His arms were cut up like paper, smeared with dried blood. A half-empty pill bottle was held in crimson, lifeless fingers. And his eyes... those beautiful, vibrant, crystal blue eyes...

They were blank. Inert. Drained.

Takaishi Takeru, his roommate, his _lover_, lay dead, right in front of him.

Now, Daisuke sat, unmoving, in the middle of his living room, staring blankly out the window, which was dusted lightly with frost as snow continued to blanket the outside world. His eyes were full of tears that refused to fall.

It had been six months since he'd found Takeru. Six months since he'd called the ambulance that failed in its mission to rescue the blue-eyed boy from the clutches of death. Six months since he'd called everyone to tell them Takeru's precious life was now gone forever. Six months since he'd tried to remove that horrible bloodstain from the bathmat in vein.

He laughed a little—a bitter laugh, hollow to his own ears—as he pictured Takeru now, alive and healthy, complaining about the mess he'd left. He would've felt so bad, knowing the once pure-white mat had been tainted and discolored.

Daisuke knew it was arrogant to blame himself for this; he alone couldn't have driven Takeru to something as destructive as taking his own life, could he? He'd had plenty of other stresses in his life, he knew that.

_But if I hadn't walked Hikari home that day... I could've stopped him._

_And he'd be here._

_With me._

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to give a moment of silence for those who didn't make it to 2015._


	17. Avowal

_A/N: A little too much on the last one? Maybe? Or have my drabbles just gone off into the deep end?_

**Prompt:** "Avowal"

**Word count:** 268

* * *

"I think your brother's hot."

Daisuke had said it so casually, without stuttering, without sweating, as if no one else were in the room to hear it. He didn't even stop to face Yamato when he'd admitted it; he just kept on staring at the ceiling, tossing his soccer ball of in the air, then catching it with ease. In fact, he said it as if he didn't give two shits about whether or not Yamato cared.

But Yamato was totally surprised, nonetheless. He blinked about eight times, maybe nine, unsure of what to say. He figured maybe that was Daisuke wanted: his silence. Or perhaps he wanted him to say something, because everyone else seemed to be as shocked as he was, and didn't know how to react to his confession.

So, completely confused, and with one eyebrow raised, he replied with, "Um… ok?"

After a moment of utter silence, Miyako shrugged and nonchalantly said, "He does have nice legs." She paused to look at Ken's sorta hurt, sorta confused face and pecked him on the lips shortly, adding, "Oh, don't worry Ken. Your legs are nice, too."

And when Takeru reentered the room, Yamato heard Mimi giggle, which of course caused a train-reaction of giggles from Hikari and Sora. He grinned at the way Takeru's face turned pink from all the attention as he said, "What?" and self-consciously put a hand up to his cheek, as if to ask, _Is there something on my face?_

"Nothing, nothing," Daisuke said, still not looking up, and tsked quietly as Takeru unsurely made his way over to the couch.


	18. Listen

_A/N: In response to Celaj15: Sooner or later, there'll be a "confession" chapter from Takeru. Dunno when it'll be updated, but it'll be there. :) Thanks for the feedback, everyone! Really, without you guys I don't think these drabbles would still be going.  
_

**Prompt:** "Listen"

**Word count:** (Turn to page) 394

* * *

Every once in a while, Takeru would find nice song.

A song that he could replay repeatedly without getting bored of it. A song that made him smile or laugh, or tear up inside. A song that made him pause, made him rethink things. A song that would brighten up his day entirely.

And he would tell Daisuke about it, tell him to look it up some time and listen to it. To _actually_ listen to it—to the lyrics, to the beat, find the real meaning behind the song.

"Don't listen to the song, Dais. Listen to the _lyrics, _and figure out what it's trying to tell you, because every song has a hidden message."

Of course, Daisuke always refused.

"Nothin' doin', 'Keru," he'd say with a dismissal wave of his hand, or sometimes an occasional shrug of his shoulders. He wouldn't even spare Takeru a glance, and was oblivious to the way Takeru's excited smile faltered. "I'm busy right now."

Even after moments of silence, Daisuke wouldn't turn around to look at him, so Takeru would just stand there, wondering why he'd been so easily brushed aside, as if he were a stray piece of food that had somehow managed to fall onto his shirt.

"O…ok," was all he'd say, and his shy, hurt tone would finally capture Daisuke's attention, but by the time he looked up, Takeru would already be walking away.

Then Daisuke would frown, not out of confusion or annoyance, but because he realized that he had hurt Takeru's feelings. As Takeru exited the room, a strange translation of his words would echo in his head:

_Don't listen to the song. Listen to _me,_ Daisuke, and try to figure out what _I'm_ trying to tell you. Find _my _hidden message._

And Daisuke would hook up his speakers the next day when Takeru returned from his classes and look up that song. He would wait until Takeru was comfortable on their couch and ask if he wanted to listen to music.

"Sure," Takeru would mutter. Daisuke would grin and hit the "play" button, and smoothly, the intro to that song would drift through the speakers. When realization kicked in, Takeru would glance up at him and meet his eyes.

And slowly, that same excited smile would tug at Takeru's lips, his eyes shining, because Daisuke really had listened all along.


	19. Sunscreen

**Prompt:** "Sunscreen"

**Word count**: 689

* * *

The sun beat down heavily, glistening in the sky proudly as it made the two figures below miserable from the heat. Takeru wiped the sweat from his brow and shifted the bag on his shoulder, following Daisuke into the boy's changing room.

"Didja bring sunscreen?" Daisuke asked, turning to face him abruptly. However, he kept his pace, albeit he was walking backwards now.

Takeru cursed inwardly. "No; didn't think about it." He breathed out a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Oh, well. I think I'll be ok."

The older teen looked at him incredulously. "Dude, you're gonna burn to a _crisp."_

Despite feeling his cheeks flame at that comment, Takeru raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What about you?"

Daisuke shrugged. "Me? Oh, _I'll _be just fine. How do you think I got this tan in the first place?" He grinned cockily, poking Takeru hard in the chest. "You're so pale I'm surprised you didn't start smoking as soon as you got outta the car."

"I'm not a vampire, Dai," Takeru remarked, turning away. "And I'm not _that _pale." He peeled off his white T-shirt, then began pawing through his bag, searching for his towel so they could meet the others at the beach.

He could hear the smirk in the other teen's voice when he said, "Don't worry. I got sunscreen."

By the time Takeru found his towel, he was blushing, so he buried himself into his bag, hoping Daisuke wouldn't notice.

He nearly jumped out of his skin in shock when cold, slippery hands pressed against his shoulders, causing him to drop his bag and yelp in surprise.

"Dude, it's just me, don't worry." Daisuke's voice drifted smoothly between them. Takeru could tell he was grinning again. "Who else is gonna make sure you don't burn? 'Cause I don't think you can reach your back by yourself."

Takeru, face beet-red and his muscles tense, could only manage a soft "oh."

After a few moments, Takeru felt the tension in his muscles loosen as Daisuke worked. The blond refrained from twitching, though, as Daisuke's hands inched downward, clasping around his hips.

Takeru didn't know how it happened. One moment Daisuke was helping him and the next, he had Takeru pinned against the wall, the older boy's lips pressed heatedly against his own.

"Dai—Daisuke," he gasped out, pulling back with wide, shocked eyes, but the older teen didn't let him finish.

Thus, Takeru was rendered helpless; Daisuke was stronger than him and was at least twenty pounds heavier. He had no choice but to let him in when his tongue pleaded for an entrance.

"Hey, guys, Miyako was wondering if either of you brought sunscreen," Ken said in one breath as he walked into the changing room, red in the face, as if he'd ran the whole way from the beach.

Takeru's eyes widened and Daisuke was the first to react, pulling away from him as quickly as he could and bumping his hip into one of the showers. He hissed in pain and cried out in surprise when the nozzle above him switched on and sprayed him with freezing cold water.

"Gah, Ken, why'd you have to go and do that?" Daisuke yelled, just as Takeru stammered, "Ken, look, it's not—"

"Um," Ken interrupted, blinking about three times. "…Am I interrupting something?"

Feeling his face burn all over again, Takeru stumbled over his words: "No, Ken, you didn't—I mean, Daisuke was just—and I couldn't reach—and then—and then—!"

"Oh! There it is," Ken cried out pleasantly as he caught sight of the bottle of sunscreen. "Thanks! Don't take too long!"

And, just like that, Ken darted out of the room, leaving a slightly shivering, completely soaked Daisuke, who was still trying to figure out how to turn off that damned shower, which was probably stuck; and an embarrassed, blushing Takeru alone in the changing room.

Finally, after about two minutes and thirty-four seconds of hissing, whining and bitching, he and Daisuke switched off the nozzle, but Takeru knew (much to his disappointment) that the cold water had killed whatever mood had spawned.

* * *

_A/N: I assure everyone that there is nothing wrong with being pale. Actually there's nothing wrong with _any_ skin tone, for that matter. I myself am quite pale. Though if you start to sparkle, I would advise that you consult a doctor. _


	20. Playing Shrink

**Prompt:** "Playing Shrink"

**Word count: **149**  
**

* * *

_I don't know, Hika. I'm not straight. I'm not gay. I'm not bi. I don't know what I am. All I know is I love him, and I don't know what to do._

Hikari tapped her pen to her lip, looking over her (blank) clipboard as she mentally went over what her best friend had told her. She'd come to a conclusion, she was sure of it.

"I think I know what your problem is, Takeru."

The said boy sat up, his frustrated blue eyes suddenly hopeful. "Really?"

She leaned into her chair and steadied the thick-framed, nerdy glasses on her face (which she was wearing for specific purposes). "Hell yeah."

Takeru's eyes widened in fear. "You sure? 'Cause the smile on your face is scaring me."

"Yep." Hikari's grin doubled in size. "As your best friend, I can honestly say you're suffering from a severe case of Dai-sexual."

* * *

_A/N: Or Daisexuality? Idk, I just__ really enjoy writing for Takeru and Hikari's friendship, and it just seemed like he'd seek advice from her. And Hikari dressed up for herself, just for kicks, not for the purpose of stereotypes or to offend anyone.  
_


	21. Valentine's Day

_A/N: And this is what you get when you listen to Linkin Park's "Valentine's Day" over and over again._

_In reply to Celaj15: Yes, I haven't forgotten. :) I was planning to have it up this week, but I wrote this one a long time ago and was planning to post it today. Also, I guess this _could_ be taken as a confession chapter from Takeru, but that depends on the reader.  
_

**Prompt:** "Valentine's Day"**  
**

**Word count:** 396**  
**

* * *

Cinnamon eyes wandered, unfocused, around the schoolyard. His day _could not _get any worse. Or at least he was pretty sure it couldn't, but considering his luck, there was always a chance. A puff of air escaped his lips as he recalled all of the things that made his mood darken.

First of all, he hated this damned holiday. It was stupid, really. Just a silly day that someone slapped on the calendar because they were bored and felt like making half the world miserable. If you had a special someone to share it with, that was great. If you didn't, then you ended up like him: alone and angry. Whoever created the big February 14th should've been arrested.

Second, the girl of his dreams didn't so much as bat an eyelash at him. She'd talked to him like she usually did, carried a normal conversation with him, treated him like she did any other of her friends. Because that's all he'd ever be to her. A _friend._

Third, all of his classmates were excitedly babbling their heads off about the dance this weekend, which he wasn't going to. Correction: he didn't _have _anyone to go with, and going to a dance that congratulated and created couples _alone_ wasn't really at the top of his to-do list.

Anger sparked up in him as he felt tears build up in his eyes. It was pathetic, wanting to cry over something as stupid as a holiday. A holiday he'd spent fifteen years ignoring, pretending it was just another normal day. He blinked several times to clear the tears, but it didn't soothe the loneliness in his heart.

Damn this freaking holiday.

Something was thrown at him. He jumped and quickly wiped his face, hating the fact that someone had caught him—Motomiya Daisuke—on the staircase in front of the school, alone and crying. Daisuke never cried. No, that was for girls. Right? Or at least that's what his sister had told him.

He fixed a bloodshot glare on the person in front of him, opening his mouth to tell them off, but then blue eyes, timid and unsure, met his, and when he looked down at his lap, he realized what the owner of those eyes had thrown at him: a box of chocolates.

"Happy Valentine's Day," the person mumbled.

Before he could reply, Takeru walked away.


	22. Pretty

_A/N: Sorry this is a tad bit late... I've been so wrapped up school that I'm not keeping on schedule... __Also, small warning: Takeru is kinda OOC._

**Prompt:** "Pretty"

**Word count:** 340

* * *

_I'm done. I'm so done._

Daisuke snarled in frustration. Takeru had been here for at least an hour, and so far, they were getting nowhere. He whirled around in his chair to face the other boy, who was busy toying around with what looked like a small paperclip.

"Takeru, as much as I don't want to do this, we gotta get it done." His fingers clenched into fists as Takeru failed to acknowledge him. "I'm kinda failing this class, if you haven't noticed, so if you'd _please_ cooperate so we can finish up, that'd be great."

"Relax, Daisuke," the blond said easily, "we'll get it done. Trust me."

"How do you know that?" Daisuke replied heatedly, frowning. "You're just a blond pretty boy who probably doesn't even have to try to get his way. I doubt you've ever had to actually put any effort in anything. Sometimes I wonder why I'm even bothering…"

Takeru looked hurt for a moment, but then his face lit up with a smile. "You think I'm pretty?"

Daisuke sputtered as soon as the words left the blue-eyed boy's lips. Was that all he got from that speech? "I—I didn't say that!"

"I'm kinda sure you did." The younger teen's grin widened a little. "You think I'm _pretty_."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment!" Daisuke snapped irritably, blushing. "I just—ugh, I don't know! Just shut up, ok? People tell _me_ I never get anything done, but you're ten times worse!"

Takeru rolled his eyes, much to Daisuke's annoyance. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the older teen. Daisuke turned back to his textbook with a frustrated sigh as he felt Takeru sit down next to him, feeling a little better now that he knew he had the other boy's attention.

He was about to open his mouth to ask what section they should work on next when Takeru's hand brushed against his own.

He bristled a little when Takeru's voice purred into his ear: "I think you're pretty, too…"

* * *

_A/N: Yes. Pretty. I believe Daisuke and Takeru are both gorgeous. :)_


	23. Angel

_A/N: I'm late again. Sorry. On top of that, this is kind of a shitty one. I even went through and did a little revision and it still didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. In fact I might end up replacing this one later on...  
_

**Prompt:** "Angel"

**Word count: **332

* * *

In the eyes of his peers, Takeru was considered an angel.

He was a kind, gentle soul and was generous to those around him. He was at the top of his class and rarely disobeyed his superiors. He was always there to lend an ear when someone needed to vent, or a shoulder to cry on when they were upset. Hell, when he was a kid, his digimon partner _was_ an angel, which intensified everyone's beliefs. They thought he was perfect.

He didn't like that they thought of him as perfect, because no one is "perfect."

Thinking about it, Takeru sighed, his blue eyes wondering to the lovely tanned boy next to him. He couldn't stand being called an angel, in all honesty. Angels were supposed to be higher beings sent from above to help others who were troubled.

_But,_ he thought, looking at the slumbering form of the boy whom he loved, _he is an exception._

Daisuke had his share of flaws, too. He lost his temper more than any other person he knew. He never thought things through properly. He seemed to be just as stubborn as Taichi, which was probably the reason why he'd followed in his footsteps. He made mistakes that nearly cost the whole team their lives. Adding to that, he and Takeru fought on a daily basis.

_But I wouldn't want him any other way._

Because honestly, Daisuke proved to be a better person than Takeru. Daisuke didn't hesitate to accept someone; he believed in the concept of forgive and forget. He was always full of energy and was enjoyable to be around. He never gave up on someone when they proved to show little progress. In fact, he pushed them harder, even when it seemed like they didn't even believe in themselves.

_The truth is,_ the back of Takeru's mind said when he shifted to rest his cheek on Daisuke's bare chest, _he's the angel._

As he moved, he felt Daisuke's arm snake around his shoulders.

_Not me._


	24. Hiccups

**Prompt:** "Hiccups"

**Word count:** 357

* * *

_Hic!_

Takeru groaned in exasperation as his body convulsed for the hundredth time. This was so infuriating! And to think just about five minutes ago, he was lost in the world of fiction, reading in peaceful silence…

_Hic! Hic! Hic!_

_Dammit!_

Frustration brewed in his stomach and his face twisted into a miserable pout, but he tried to focus on the words in his book, tried to focus on something other than these damned—

Then the couch suddenly sagged.

Takeru blinked confusedly and glanced up, vexed blue eyes being captured by dark brown ones. For a moment, Daisuke just sat there, silently and solemnly, staring at him. Not uttering a word.

_Hic!_

And then he burst into laughter.

"It's not funny!" Takeru complained, slamming his book shut, only for his body to convulse again. _Hic!_

Clutching his stomach, Daisuke said, "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry." He took in a deep breath to regain his composure, and let it out a second later. Then he leaned against the couch again somewhat calmly.

_Hic!_

Repressed chuckles followed, and then a sharp look.

"Don't you—_hic!_—dare."

After a moment of barely-contained mocking laughter, Daisuke leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "You know what will cure hiccups?"

Takeru made a move to glare at him because he was definitely _not_ in the mood for his jokes, but before he could to anything, Daisuke crashed his lips against his own.

Immediately, Takeru dropped his book with a squeak of surprise. Daisuke's hand reached up to cup his cheek, pushing him further against the couch.

It wasn't a slow or gentle kiss, either. No, this kiss was rough and hot and Takeru hadn't been expecting it at all.

And just as he started to kiss back, Daisuke pulled away, grinning.

Takeru challenged his grin with a disappointed frown. "Tease," he muttered breathlessly.

Daisuke acted as if he hadn't heard him. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"They're gone, aren't they?"

Takeru paused. He waited a moment. Two moments. Three moments.

Slowly, his frown turned into a small smile.

"Now c'mere and finish what you started," he murmured, pulling Daisuke in for another kiss.


	25. Late

**Prompt:** "Late"

* * *

Daisuke looked down at his phone for the seventh time that minute. There were no messages or returned calls. Takeru wasn't answering. It was unnerving.

"You damned idiot," the teen cursed under his breath, frowning and tapping his foot with little patience. "I told him I'd meet him here yesterday. And people usually tell me _I'm_ always late." He sighed to himself and, out of habit, glanced back at his phone.

"Maybe he got sick?" Chibimon suggested, popping his head out of Daisuke's bag.

"Then he should've messaged me or something," the other replied, huffing.

Still, he couldn't deny that he was worried. Takeru was responsible and tentative. If something had come up, surely he would've called. It wasn't like him to just ditch without giving a logical reason why.

_Or maybe he's just being an ass._

Then again, he knew he didn't have time for this. His research paper was due on Friday morning! Ken was busy all day today, which didn't help his situation. His next choice was Koushiro, but he was out of town… and Miyako, well, with Miyako there, he wasn't sure that he'd get anywhere past the first paragraph without her aid somehow turning into an argument. Hikari seemed to have trouble with her own paper, so he didn't bother asking her…

Everyone else he knew that could help him didn't have time to spare, either. Well, everyone except for Takeru. It didn't bother him, really, because he knew Takeru did particularly well in the writing category. Saying that aloud was the hard part.

_I'll give him a couple more minutes,_ he thought, somewhat irritably, _but after that, I'm calling it quits._

He slumped against the bench he was sitting on. Chibimon jumped out of his bag somewhat excitedly, although he complained about being crushed to death by one of his textbooks.

"He'll be here," the small digimon assured.

"Sure he will," came his deadpanned response.

A few minutes passed. Then a few more. Daisuke huffed impatiently and shot up from the bench with enough force to send his bag tumbling to the ground, causing Chibimon to squeak in surprise.

"A little warning next time, please…" the little guy grumbled, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"I'm done. I am so, so done. I'm not waiting another minute."

The spiky-haired teen bent over and tugged at the strap of his bag to indicate that he was leaving, and then slung it over his shoulder somewhat carefully. Chibimon, who had fallen out just moments before, scurried after him hastily.

"Hey, Dais, wait up!" a familiar voice called, causing the teen to freeze in his tracks. He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of blond hair.

_It's about damn time._

Takeru came jogging up to him, with Patamon in his customary place atop his head. As he caught up to Daisuke, he started rambling: "I'm so sorry I'm late, Dais. Really. It's just Yamato had this thing and he needed help and I completely forgot about your paper, so I said ok, and—I didn't mean to, but—"

The guilt that crossed his features was completely genuine, an insane part of his brain realized, as the rest of Takeru's rant went unheard. And something about the way his eyes glittered in the sunlight made Daisuke forget what he was angry about in the first place.

"It's ok," he said, almost dazedly.

His cheeks were faintly pink, as if he'd jogged the whole way to the library. His hair a little messed up, but not in an unattractive kind of way. And that faded-blue t-shirt looked sort of nice on him…

"What?" Daisuke asked dumbly, realizing that Takeru had replied.

"I said, we should get started," the blond told him, kind of solemnly. Then he frowned in concern. "Hey, are you ok? Your eyes are kind of glassy."

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, let's go," he mumbled, turning to hide the fact that he was blushing.

_Damn him and his stupid shiny eyes and dumb hair, _he thought as Takeru followed him into the library. _Damn him and his t-shirt. Damn him, damn him, damn him._

And he repeated that to himself for the rest of the day, because for some reason, he couldn't get that image of Takeru running up to him out of his head.


End file.
